


Devil With a Pink Dress

by LaughableLament



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: smpc, Cunnilingus, Demonic Possession, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Porn Pile 2015, Porn with a smidge of plot, Pre-Series, Rape/Non-con Elements, Safer Sex, Vaginal Sex, dubcon, spoilers through season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yellow Eyes wouldn't assign just anyone to collect Sam Winchester's virginity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil With a Pink Dress

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Dubcon drifting toward noncon due to demonic possession. 
> 
> Spoilers up to and including Swan Song (S05e22).

Na’amah – no – _Rachel_ drags her eyes shamelessly over the tuxedoed youth sitting beside her. He’s nervous. She can smell it on him. He starts the car, a great black thundering orgasm of a machine conveniently equipped with a bench seat. She slides across.

“Where are we headed?” she asks, voice soft and sweet. Her meatsuit is all fresh-faced innocence. Blonde hair and blue eyes and pretty pink dress that might be in rags by morning if she has her way. She always has her way.

Sam Winchester, her lord husband’s future vessel, clears his throat. Tugs at his collar. He’s magnificent, tall and lithe and possessing surprising strength. He’s shy, hiding pretty eyes behind too-long bangs and majestic height in slouching shoulders.

She’ll eat this boy alive. Almost a shame she can’t do so literally.

“There’s-uh… There’s an after-party at the bowling alley.”

“Do you like bowling?” she coos. “’Cause I can think of better things to do.”

She nearly squeals at the surge of blood that springs to his face, stains his cheeks a delectable pink.

“I-“ He clears his throat again. “My brother bought me a motel room.”

Dean Winchester. She has to fight to keep the sneer of disgust off her face. He should have burned with his whore of a mother.

She trails a perfectly manicured nail up the sleeve of Sam’s jacket. “Thoughtful guy. Guess he thought you were gonna get lucky tonight?”

He squirms in his seat. Her eyes drift down, take in the bulge her teasing has so far incited. His pretty baritone goes hoarse when he answers, “Guess so.”

When he swallows, his elegant neck shifts and flexes. Soon enough, she’ll leave her meatsuit’s teeth marks in that flesh. “Guess he was right.” With that, she eases open his bowtie. Hand tied. Impressive. Rachel slips open his top button, exhales hot into his ear. “I’m yours, Sam. All of me.”

If he only knew.

Sam drives like an aged grandmother to the motel. Hands white-knuckled at ten and two, precisely obeying the speed limits. Rachel whispers filth in his ear, strokes his hair with one hand and his chest, his thigh with the other. He’s almost trembling by the time he climbs out of the car.

Sweet boy, he walks around to open her door for her. Leads her to a room and holds that door for her too. She has to grit her teeth a bit. This room, this motel, hardly befit her. But for a high school girl on her prom night it’s as much as can be expected.

It dawns on her to be curious whether her meatsuit is also a virgin. If so she thinks she’ll wake the girl, let her feel herself be taken. Might do it either way, just for a laugh.

Sam stands inside the closed door, eyes wide and hands shaking. Rachel goes to him and pulls him down for a gentle kiss, closed-mouthed and chaste. She opens her eyes and looks up at him, flutters her barely painted lashes. Smiles.

“Kiss me, Sam? Make me yours?”

And it’s as if she’s dropped a match on dry brush. Sam spins her, pins her against the door and _there’s_ the boy who’ll rule in Hell one day. He pries apart her lips with his tongue, sucking and biting and growling with need. His mouth trails down her jaw, her neck.

“Sam,” she breathes and she starts to work stripping his jacket. He lets it fall free to the floor and he seizes her, strong arms hard around her and fingers fumbling at her zipper. Rachel takes his face in her hands. “Wait,” she says. “Let me.”

She ducks around his body and stands at the foot of the king sized bed. Faces away from him so he can watch as she slowly draws her zipper down. Simple strapless bra and matching panties peek out as the fabric falls open.

He’s on her. Fingers callused and rough but surprisingly deft slip inside her straps, push them off her shoulders. Rachel turns, holds her bodice in place with one hand and she kisses him, this time on the delicate skin at the hinge of his jaw. She takes a step back, and lets the shimmery pink gown tumble to her feet. Silver sandals sparkle in the room’s dim light.

Coquettish. That’s what she conjures as Sam stares, slack-jawed. Reaching out she begins working open his buttons, pulls his tie loose and casts it aside. He puts his hands all over her, strokes her sides, squeezes her hips. His mouth dances around her face, kissing her hairline, her eyelids, her cheeks. When she tilts her head up they devour each other, panting breaths and clicking teeth and he tastes like Hellfire. So, so, good.

Once they’ve wrestled his shirts off he throws her down onto the bed. The body she’s riding bounces slightly and she giggles. Sam crawls up after her, forces a knee between her thighs and she lets her legs fall open. He’s a wild thing, wanton and hungry. Hasn’t spoken a word but his eyes blaze bright with the lust only teenaged virgins can muster.

He opens his fly, and his prick springs free to twitch and strain at his boxer briefs. Rachel’s mouth waters, and playing a bit of the blushing virgin herself she extends her fingers tentatively.

“May I?” She grazes the tip of one nail down the length of his shaft.

What begins as a hiss rises into a moan and crescendos with a cry of pleasure. Gray fabric darkens to black with his wet and she hooks his waistband. Traces the edge and brushes the pad of one finger against his slippery crown.

Sam flops over onto his back and kicks off his shoes, slides out of his pants. Naked but for socks – and if she rolls her eyes, he doesn’t notice – he reaches for her. Side by side they kiss, nip, lick. Rachel follows through on her promise to mark up his neck, little bruises in a random pattern that assure he won’t forget her for a long, long, time.

Down and down and down, she trails her tongue across his collarbones, bites the tender skin at the join of his arms, wraps her lips around a nipple and sucks experimentally. Sam’s back arches, hips seeking friction. Everything about this boy responds like a well-trained hound.

And she means to reward him. Tiny shove at his shoulder and he rolls onto his back. Rachel draws up to her knees and wraps her lips around him, just the tip. Tickles the sensitive skin with her tongue and accepts what he gives when he bucks up into her. Long and wide he strains her meatsuit’s jaws, stretches its lips, and she doesn’t know what kind of throat she has to work with, but she bobs her head and unsurprisingly bottoms out, an undignified choke.

 _This could go poorly_ , she thinks to herself but apparently the boy enjoys her suffering. Her throat spasms again and he’s flooding her mouth with his seed, heat and salt and she thinks, not for the first time, how perfect it is that tears and come don’t burn her borrowed flesh.

Sam is howling, taking her mouth for his pleasure and she swallows, licks, sucks. She’d smile if she weren’t so stuffed with his cock. She rocks up onto her knees, licks her lips and kisses him. His half-spent pants turn into whimpers as he tastes his own release.

Eyes glazed, Sam trails a lazy finger from her chin, along the line of her neck, between her small breasts and on down past her navel. Slips his hand between her legs and strokes the soaked seat of her panties.

She shivers.

“Are you…?” He asks at last, barely over a whisper. “Have you ever…?”

Rachel demurs, casts her eyes down and to one side and subtly shrugs. Ambiguous. Enough that he won't grow suspicious, regardless of whether she bleeds.

Sam blushes again. “I-uh… I’ve never.” Soft smile spreads across his blood-dark lips, embarrassment spiked with arousal. His eyelashes flutter, his own gaze averted.

“That’s okay.” She presses a palm against his breastbone. Gives him a wicked smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

And with grace unbefitting a man his size Sam rolls himself up to his knees. Presses their bodies together and pushes his hands inside her panties, squeezes her ass as he nuzzles her ear. “Can I – can I taste you?”

Rachel moans. And Sam takes the sound for the yes that it is and shoves her panties to her knees. He tips them over. She unhooks and discards her bra while he strips her the rest of the way. He even unbuckles her sandals, trails feathery kisses along her arches. This body is ticklish and she kicks out at him. He seizes her ankles and kisses some more, hungry stare all over her as she writhes.

When he has her breathless, tears of frustration seeping out of her screwed-shut eyes he takes her thighs in a bruising grip and urges her open. The smell of her sex hits her hard and him too, judging by his deep inhale and near drunken expression.

She left her meatsuit’s sex un-groomed. Girl-next-door aesthetic and all. Sam’s long fingers separate her hair, her lips – and without preamble the silly child rasps his tongue directly across her clit.

“Sam!” she squeals, every muscle clenched in overstimulation. “Go slow, baby. Work up to that.”

He drops his head but his heated blush travels all the way down to his shoulders. And any discomfort she felt becomes instantly worth it. Beautiful. Obedient. She’ll never have him like this again but there's an incredible arrogant thrill, knowing none of her sister wives will get to have him like this at all.

Sam’s tongue returns, tentative, and she talks him through it.

“Yes, Sam, like that. Gentle, baby.”

And “Now suck at the lips, that's it, pull down a little.”

And “Oh, yesss, right there” and “harder Sam, yes, lick me harder” and –

Rachel’s body curls in on itself. Her shoulders fly up off the mattress and Sam holds her down with an arm across her hips. He’s sucking her, flicking his tongue against her clit and humming, vibrations driving her up and up and over. She screams when a finger slides into her, curls inside her. Hands balled into fists she flails, pounds the mattress and kicks at his shoulders and he’s not letting up. Harder and faster, another finger, and he doesn’t even thrust just lets her ride his mouth and fuck his hand until she can speak again.

“Sam, please! Enough! Stop!”

He lifts his head and looks across the quivering planes of her body. Meets her eyes. Messy hair and slick-soaked face and the sweetest smuggest sexiest smile she’s ever laid eyes on. No mean accomplishment.

Sam’s erection has returned. Rachel watches as he tumbles off the bed, retrieves his wallet from his pants and produces a condom. She’d just as soon dispense with it, would love to feel him fill her up inside. But Azazel insisted. Pregnant teenaged girlfriend could derail everything, and she didn’t get to where she is through reckless disobedience.

“Let me,” she says as he kneels between her thighs. She opens the condom and strokes him, teasing as she rolls it on. Lets her hand drift down to squeeze his balls, heavy and warm between her fingers. Sam hisses. She lets him go and spreads her legs. Offers herself to her virgin sacrifice.

There’s a spike of pain when he slips inside her. Rachel smiles and awakens her captive. Screaming in her head the real Rachel begs Sam to notice, to know _it’s not me, Sam! Please!_

The best part is, the little bitch wanted this. She’s just upset because she isn’t driving. Shame.

 _Back to sleep little one._ To her surprise, Rachel discovers she wants Sam all to herself.

The boy is a natural, rocking and swirling his hips and pumping shallowly at spots that make her squeal. She tightens her muscles, earns a groan of almost painful pleasure. Rachel grabs her legs behind the knees and rocks her hips upward, bows her back and bends her body almost in half to draw him deeper. Sam’s eyes roll back and his jaw falls slack and his thrusts build in intensity.

Her eyelids fall and she bucks back against him as hard as she can, for as long as she can, until his pace grows too quick and his thrusting too brutal. She takes it. All of it. Takes in the sounds of colliding flesh, the smells of sex and sweat, the taste of him still on her tongue and above all the sight of him, lost in his pleasure and chasing his climax.

She drops one leg and lays a hand between her lips, lets Sam’s momentum drive her back and forth across her clit. Both of them finally gone mindless with fucking, rutting like the animals these meatsuits are and Damnation he feels so good. So deep in her body and pounding the breath from her lungs.

“Rachel. Rachel.” He’s chanting that name and what she wouldn’t give to show him the truth of this, let her eyes flick black and make him say her true name. Never mind that though, this body is singing. Giving herself over, Rachel lets the pleasure take her.

“Sam. Sam. _Sam!_ ”

He cries out.

They collapse in a heap.

Later, after afterglow and showers and a late-night breakfast at an all-night diner, Sam drops her off at her parents’ house. He kisses her. Thanks her. Promises to call her.

Na’amah doesn’t even let the meatsuit get all the way to its bedroom. She smokes out, leaving the girl Rachel fucked and unconscious on the stairs.

One more thing she has to do.

“I don’t care what kind of mayhem you cause, just make sure John Winchester gets wind of it today.” That’ll get the boy out of town before he sees the girl again.

The minions before her bow and scrape, mutter “Milady” and “Yes, Mistress” like the sniveling dogs they are.

Na’amah returns to Hell’s Throne Room. To wait. And to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> FWIW, Na'amah is a powerful succubus. In some legends she's one of Satan's wives and/or the Queen of Hell.
> 
> For a lovely companion piece, please read reggie's [Injustus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/931303).


End file.
